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Chapter XV






                r. Rochester did, on a future occasion, explain it. It
           Mwas one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and
           Adele in the grounds: and while she played with Pilot and
           her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long
            beech avenue within sight of her.
              He then said that she was the daughter of a French op-
            era-dancer,  Celine  Varens,  towards  whom  he  had  once
            cherished what he called a ‘grande passion.’ This passion
           Celine had professed to return with even superior ardour.
           He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he believed, as
           he  said,  that  she  preferred  his  ‘taille  d’athlete’  to  the  ele-
            gance of the Apollo Belvidere.
              ‘And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference
            of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her
           in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants,
            a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, &c. In short, I
            began the process of ruining myself in the received style,
            like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to
            chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode
           the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch
           from the beaten centre. I had—as I deserved to have—the
           fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening
           when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was
            a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Par-

            1                                        Jane Eyre
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